


A Friendly Favor

by Bloodsbane



Series: A MarTim Collection [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Casual Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Service Top Tim, Sex Toys, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, pre-slash for the jonmartin (martin just developed a proper crush)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: Martin is well into his fourth drink when he leans over, pressing the entirety of his right side into Tim. His breath is warm and heavy with alcohol when he speaks against Tim’s cheek: “Hey. Hey, I got a question for you.”Tim gives him an amused look, leaning with one elbow against the table, feeling strangely conspiratorial.---Martin has a problem. Tim is more than willing to help him sort it out.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims (mentioned/implied), Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Series: A MarTim Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696567
Comments: 22
Kudos: 473





	A Friendly Favor

**Author's Note:**

> As is the usual case, I had this idea stuck in my head for a few days and was forced to start typing it out on my phone. Took about three days overall, mostly because I'm a gay idiot who can't write smut without six pages of preamble. It's basically my foreplay.
> 
> Some additional CWs: 
> 
> > trans!martin; he's had top-surgery, but isn't taking hormones  
> > this fic uses terms like clit for martin, and tim does have penetrative sex with him  
> > tim and martin use the green/yellow/red safeword system and have a nonverbal sign as well. it's mentioned very briefly but i wanted to state it more explicitly here just in case, since there's a moment where martin gets a bit overwhelmed/cries during sex - don't worry!

Martin is well into his fourth drink when he leans over, pressing the entirety of his right side into Tim. His breath is warm and heavy with alcohol when he speaks against Tim’s cheek: “Hey. Hey, I got a question for you.” **  
**

Tim gives him an amused look, leaning with one elbow against the table, feeling strangely conspiratorial. They’re at the pub with a couple friends, but said friends have migrated away for more drinks and look busy. They’ll have a few moments of privacy, hidden amongst the many bodies shuffling between tables. “Oh yeah?” It’s not such a surprise, really; Martin’s been in an odd way lately, like he’s got something on his mind, and he’s two drinks past his usual. This is probably the most drunk Tim has ever seen him, actually. 

“Yeah,” Martin sighs. He closes his eyes for a minute. Tim can’t help but think that Martin looks tired. They don’t work together anymore, so he has no idea what things are like back at the historical institute. He remembers that Elias is a creep though, and that Jon only just stopped being a total prick to Martin when Tim took his leave. Sasha’s still there, but she’s never been the doting type. Whatever Martin’s been so worried about, Tim is sure he’s been dealing with it in secret, like a sick cat hiding in the closet. 

For an entire minute, Martin just rests there, letting Tim take on most of his weight, and Tim doesn’t mind. With how absent he’s been lately, it’s the least he can do for a buddy. 

Then, just as Tim is worried Martin might have fallen asleep, the man’s eyes snap open. Tim shivers; he recognizes that intense look, always such a surprise to see on Martin’s kind face. “You wanna have sex with me, right?” Martin asks, sounding very certain of himself.

Tim snorts, trying to hide his smile with his bottle. “Uh, well, considering we’ve banged more than a few times, I’d say yeah! What, was I not memorable enough? You didn’t really forget, right?” he teases.

“No, I remember,” Martin says. It shouldn’t be so hot, the way he says it. Martin is such a… softie. He’s shorter than Tim by two inches, adorable and soft; he’s probably the sweetest, sappiest guy Tim has ever met; he shouldn’t be allowed to make expressions like that, to speak with his voice all deep like that, like he’s got a secret he might be willing to share. If you convince him well enough. “I remember. S’why I’m askin’.” 

“Askin’ what?” Tim wonders, feeling suddenly very warm. He sips his beer.

Martin licks his lips, and they glisten in the cheap light of the pub. His mouth hangs open just a little bit, just enough so Tim can see his front two teeth and the darkness behind them. “I’ve been… Lately, it’s hard. I can’t, y’know.”

“...Can’t what, precisely?”

Martin frowns at him. Actually scrunches up his nose, like he’s annoyed. “Y’know!” he insists, slapping Tim’s shoulder with one hand. Then, with the other, Tim sees him make a swift, crude jerking-off motion under the table. It’s even topped with a flourish, something like a jazz hand punctuating it. Tim snorts and tries not to choke on his drink as he leans over the table, coughing through his giggles. _“Martin!”_

“I can’t!” Martin says too loudly, then laughs, then leans over to kiss Tim on the neck. Then his hand rubs at one eye and he says more quietly, “I dunno. S’hard, I can’t do it. I want to but I can’t.”

“You poor thing,” Tim teases, trying to pull himself back together.

“I _am_ a poor thing!” Martin whines. God, Tim wishes he had his camera out, but the damn thing is dead because he’s an idiot who forgot to charge it back at home before leaving. “It’s been so long, Tim. For _ever_.” 

“Listen, you know me, and even I can tell you it’s not that hard to survive a week or two without busting a good nut,” Tim chuckles. 

Martin glares at him. “Shut up. S’been too long! Forever, like, like forever for real! Months and months and months.” His tone is anguished and he pulls away just enough to lean his head back, exposing his neck to all the world as he mutters complaints. 

Tim straightens up just a bit. “Wait- Months, really? Are you serious? How many?” 

“Two or three or maybe a million,” Martin slurs, his voice bitter and, at this point, a bit pitiful. He sniffs and rubs at his face and Tim is worried his friend is about to start crying. “It’s the worst. I hate it. I can’t- even a little. I try an’ try but I can’t do it and I hate it, Tim. I just want to _relax!_ Isn’t fair.” 

By now, Tim has turned as much as he can to face Martin, who lays half on the seat and half on Tim. Tim carefully wraps his closest arm around Martin’s waist and pulls him a tad closer. Martin practically melts against him, letting his face rest in the crook of Tim’s neck. “It’s really that bad?” he asks. 

“Mmm,” Martin hums, and for a while he’s quiet, breathing heavily against Tim’s shoulder. Tim appreciates the chance to think.

When he and Martin first met, it hadn’t taken long for them to fall into bed together. That was a few years ago, when Martin was still very shy and awkward around his co-workers -- especially Jon, their colleague-turned-boss who tended to give him a difficult time. Tired of seeing Jon’s prickly nature continually cause the poor new kid to sulk about in the bookshelves, Tim took it upon himself to be a sort of buffer between them. That led to talking to Martin more, and well. Martin has always been sweet, and Tim always did like the shy ones; it was a treat, to see them blush when he flirted, or just to help them open up a bit with someone. It didn’t always lead to sex, which was fine -- Tim liked meeting people and making friends. But after a few weeks of heavy blushing and awkward laughter at Tim’s carefully-uncouth comments at work, Martin started to play along. Started to initiate, even. Started to drop hints. 

The first time had been at Martin’s place, and it hadn’t been entirely planned, but it was fun and nice and Martin insisted on making them both dinner afterwards. And even though it wasn’t exactly a _thing_ after that, not some new routine and certainly not a proper relationship, they did continue to hook up. Usually once or twice every month or so. Sometimes after a night of drinks, sometimes not. 

Honestly, leaving Martin behind had been one of the more difficult parts of changing jobs, for Tim. When his brother found him a position at a new, fresh publishing company that needed experienced help to grow, Tim had jumped at the chance. The library was interesting, but had always been meant as something temporary when he’d gotten laid off from his old job. 

So, yes, they’d had sex before. Quite a few times really, and all of them good. Therefore, Tim was probably more knowledgeable than most when it came to Martin and his sexuality; the guy was surprisingly open to discussing stuff like that once you’d gotten him out of his pants. Which meant Tim knew that, while Martin wasn’t as sexually proactive as himself, the other man did have a sex drive and masturbated on a regular enough basis. Especially when he was stressed, he’d confessed once, because sometimes it was the only thing that could distract him from all the stuff he dealt with. Sometimes a good session with his vibrator was the only thing that helped him get to sleep. 

Suddenly, the vague shadows under Martin’s eyes and his frayed mood as of late made a lot more sense.

“Aw man, sorry you’ve been having a hard time of it,” Tim says earnestly, pushing his empty bottle away. Glancing at their small party of friends, he makes a decision and begins pushing Martin out of the booth. “Hey, c’mon, I’ll take you home.”

Martin perks up at that, giving Tim a heated look. “Oh?”

“Don’t get excited -- you’re just a bit too drunk for _that_ , I think,” Tim says, not without some regret. “It’s late anyhow, and you’ll need an escort and some TLC before bed. I can do that much, at least.”

“Could do more,” Martin coos, but doesn’t try anything when Tim catches the eye of one of his former co-workers and waves deliberately, making a vague gesture to the armful of man he’s dragging away. He gets a double-thumbs-up in response. Tim rolls his eyes and they exit the pub.

Martin’s place is close, so they walk. Tim’s got his arm around Martin’s shoulders to help him keep his balance; Martin has long since wrapped his own arm around Tim’s waist, letting his hand slide into the pocket. It’s not unfamiliar, and Tim’s at ease, even when having to redirect a semi-stumbling Martin so he stays on the sidewalk. 

About halfway there, as they cut through a small section of park, Martin whispers loudly, “Tim. Tim, I gotta tell you something.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah but shut up,” Martin says harshly. He actually smacks the back of his hand gently against Tim’s mouth, making him sputter a surprised laugh. “S’a secret. Tell you later. Shh!” 

“A secret?” 

“Yeah. A sexy secret.”

“Ohh, delightful.”

Tim knows where Martin keeps his key, so he simply fishes them out of the man’s back pocket when they approach the door. Martin hums, seemingly content with Tim taking assuming control, though he shoves his way into the open door first. Tim locks up and finds Martin face-down on the couch. 

“You alright there, buddy?”

Instead of answering, Martin asks, “Sleepin’ over?”

“Yeah, sure. Want the bed?”

“Couchhhhh.”

Martin does have a comfy couch. Tim heads into the kitchen and gets some water. When he comes back, Martin is on his back, head just barely propped up on the arm of the couch. Tim takes a slight detour and nabs a straw from the little container Martin keeps them in. When he hands over the glass, Tim asks, “Want something to eat?” 

Teeth on his straw, Martin laughs in an overly-goofy manner, the sound practically dripping with innuendo. Tim presses his entire hand over Martin’s face and pretends to act disgusted when his friend predictably licks his palm. 

After Tim toasts a bagel and feeds it to Martin, he says, “I’m about ready to turn in. You alright here buddy? Want some pajamas?”

“Want none pajamas,” Martin says, his eyes closed. Despite his drunkenness, he’d insisted on leaving the couch to refill his water and throw away the paper plate he’d used without assistance. Now he’s halfway through that glass and finally winding down. Though the look he gives Tim when he peeks at him suggests he’s not quite finished yet. “Sure you don’t wanna have sex?”

“Yeah, Martin. Not right now, anyway. It’s bedtime!”

“Really? Y’sure?” 

Tim, who is sitting next to him on the floor, leans over to smile at Martin. He’s just close enough so that when Martin tilts his head, they can kiss. “Sorry, bud. Not tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Martin sighs. He doesn’t seem disappointed, exactly, but there’s something forlorn about his tone. Tim almost wants to laugh with incredulity; he’s not sure he’s ever felt guilty denying someone a quick fuck. What an odd experience. 

Then Martin’s expression brightens, and he slips into a stage-whisper to say, “Tim! I gotta tell you my secret!”

“You sure about that? You’re still kinda drunk, I dunno-”

“Shhhh, shut up,” Martin says. He puts a hand up to Tim’s mouth, covering it. Tim’s half tempted to repay him for earlier, but Martin is already speaking again. “Listen. Tim, listen, s’really important. Don’t say anything with your dumb, pretty mouth ‘till I’m done.” 

Tim quirks a brow. Martin takes away his hand, moving it so he can sit up and hold Tim’s face instead. Martin’s palms are big and warm against Tim’s cheeks. He can’t help it, thinking of all the other ways those hands have staked their claim on him. 

“When I’m up in the morning and I’m not drunk and I’m sober instead,” Martin says, speaking more clearly than he has in hours, “I want you to fuck me just- just really hard, okay? Just go to town. Like, _really.”_

Tim can feel the way his entire face is heating up. He’s never- Martin likes a bit of dirty talk, but he’s never the one actually saying shit like this, and he basically never swears, and his face is so close and he’s still talking-

“Just- just- I just really need to come,” he says, and it’s so very close to the start of a sob, “So just fuck me really good okay? Really good, ‘til I’m all jelly and I can’t think straight for days.”

“O-okay, Martin.”

“Shhh, just really good. Drill me into the mattress.”

“Right, yeah-”

“I wanna come so hard I can’t feel my legs anymore,” Martin tells him dreamily. “I wanna fall asleep for a whole week.” 

Tim tries to swallow and finds his throat is a sad, dry place. “Well. I can certainly… try that. I’ll, um. Do my best.”

“Do _me_ your best.”

“Yes.” 

Martin blinks with heavy lids and nods, finally releasing Tim. Then he buries his face into the corner of the couch, his body curling up into a ball, and Tim knows he’s asleep before he even has a chance to say goodnight.

Tim slips into Martin’s bathroom and debates jerking off, but decides not to. It doesn’t seem fair, somehow. So he just steals some clothes to sleep in before diving into Martin’s lonely little bed. 

* * *

In the morning, Tim wakes up first, and has just enough time to make toast before he hears Martin groaning on the couch. He sets breakfast on the coffee table and sits on the floor, letting Martin take his time waking up.

He doesn’t seem too hungover when he blinks at Tim. The confusion quickly turns to understanding, and Martin closes his eyes again, letting out a sigh. “Mmm. Sleep alright?”

“I was totally fine,” Tim says brightly, offering Martin a mostly-innocent smile. “I’m more worried over how you fared out here on the couch in your work clothes.”

“Uhg, yeah. Why’d you let me stay in my jeans?”

“Sorry. Didn’t think encouraging you to strip was the best idea, honestly. So I left you to it.”

At this point Martin is sitting up. As he takes a sip of tea, he nods and says, “I think I remember most of what happened. Sorry for being so…” He huffs a laugh, then takes a bite of toast with jam. 

Tim migrates onto the couch, sitting next to Martin and knocking elbows with his friend. “No problem! Only fair I think; you’ve seen me stupid drunk enough times. We’ll call it even.”

“Mmm.”

They finish their meager breakfast. When Tim checks the time on his phone, Martin says, “You’ll be alright today?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just working from home today. Gonna meet up with Danny for lunch later, maybe stop by the office to pick something up, but that’s it really.”

“That’s good! Won’t need to worry about clothes then,” Martin says as he heads off to his room. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he comes back out looking much more alert. But the intensity is back in his eyes, and Tim pauses where he stands in the kitchenette, pouring one last cup of tea before they both head out. 

Martin settles in next to him, arms crossed, resting against the counter. He’s not touching Tim, yet the man feels just a little like his friend has caught him. 

“I know I was kinda drunk last night,” Martin says in a soft voice, “but I, um. I meant what I was saying. Lately, things have been… Just, really stressful, I guess? A-and, I’ve honestly been meaning to bring it up. Ask you, I mean.” He blushes, looking away for just a moment to wipe the nervous smile off his lips. It doesn’t quite work, but when he turns to Tim again his expression is sweet. “When we’ve- y’know. Gotten together. It’s always been really nice, and good, and I’ve been… satisfied, after. So I thought, I dunno... you might be able to help get me out of this rut?” He laughs again, embarrassed. “God, I can’t believe this.”

Tim offers a smile, pressing his shoulder very gently against Martin’s. “Don’t beat yourself up about it! It’s fine, really. Promise! It’s really not so weird at all.”

Martin shrugs, but leans in closer so that they feel the warmth of each other through their shirts. “Thanks, Tim.”

“Besides! It was really flattering, having you beg me to give it to you all night-”

Abruptly, Martin steals his cup of tea and turns out of the kitchenette. Tim spends the next fifteen minutes calling after him pitifully, unrelenting, until Martin finally lets him steal a kiss as they're headed out the door. 

Before they part ways, Martin asks in a small voice, “Do you want to come over tonight?”

“Is this a proper invitation to help you with your little problem?”

_“Tim.”_

“Say no more! I’ll be over ‘round seven?” 

“Sounds good.” Martin kissed him this time, swiftly at the corner of his mouth, before heading off.

The rest of Tim’s day is normal. He works on some organizational stuff for the publishing house and meets Danny at a pizza place for lunch. Later on, about an hour before Tim leaves home, he gets a text from Martin:

_Hey, are you hungry? Did you want dinner first?_

**nah had a big lunch!**

**im fine with eating later**

_Okay good. I'm omw home_

**see you soon ;)**

_I'll be in the bedroom, just let yourself in_

Tim feels a flame of arousal race down his spine. He's still not used to seeing Martin be so… forward. Apparently it works for him.

Martin's last text colors his mood for the rest of the evening, and Tim ends up leaving a bit earlier than expected. When he gets to Martin's flat, he heeds the man's directions and lets himself in. 

The front light is on, but everything else is relatively dark. Tim looks down the hallway and sees Martin's bedroom door is open. "I'm here," he calls, bending to take off his shoes.

From the bedroom, Martin calls back, "In here."

Tim finds him face-down on the bed, jeans already on the floor. His legs are thick and pale, slightly twisted up in his bedsheets. Martin had his eyes closed when Tim first came in -- how tired is he? -- but opens them once Tim is near the bed.

"Hey," Tim says quietly.

"Hi," Martin replies, then rolls onto his back, arms open. His eyes beckon.

Kissing Martin Blackwood has always been a particularly favored pastime for Tim. The man is so very sweet, always yielding beneath Tim's mouth. He makes cute, breathy sounds between kisses. He doesn't get bored and wander, like most of the other people Tim has slept with often do; it's nice, because Tim really likes the slow and easy pace. It feels like a simple indulgence, the slickness of their tongues meeting, the closeness of hands on his neck and shoulders. He basks in the warmth of Martin's attention, the heat of his mouth. 

While they kiss, Tim moves over Martin, holding his friend's shoulders and shifting his hips until they settle between Martin's legs. His own jeans are suddenly much too tight. Tim pulls back, ignoring the needy sound Martin makes (or trying to; it does not help with his tight-pants situation at all.) "One sec."

Martin eagerly assists Tim in removing his pants and jacket, and they both sigh as newly exposed skin meets skin. Hands rub up and down Tim's bare arms; he feels Martin wrap his legs about his waist, pulling him closer. Tim obliges and just a moment later, he can feel himself pressing up against Martin through the fabric of their underwear. 

Martin moans and rocks his hips, sending a lovely pulse of arousal up to Tim's stomach. He finally leaves Martin's lips to settle his breathing and sinks down to the man's neck instead. 

Tim asks, "Mind if I go down on you?" against Martin's throat, and he feels his friend nod, can taste the sound of his approval at the suggestion beneath his teeth. So Tim wastes no time shuffling downward. He admires the damp spot on Martin's briefs, delivering a kiss there before pulling off the garment.

When they'd first started sleeping together, Martin had been a bit shy about letting Tim touch him here. He'd always been more comfortable servicing, and it wasn't like Tim would ever complain about receiving such nice attention. Still, it had felt even nicer when Martin finally let Tim's hand sneak beneath his waistband. It was always a good feeling, to earn trust like that, to be trusted with someone else's vulnerability. It made Tim feel a bit heady, and so he hummed with deep appreciation once Martin was exposed. 

He wastes no time; two fingers explore the folds, prodding lightly until they find something warm and wet. “You’re dripping already,” Tim mutters, a bit in awe of how slick Martin is. He hadn’t seen a lube bottle on the bed. 

When Tim glances up, he catches Martin blushing a bit as he stares up at the ceiling. “Yes, well. I was sort of thinking about this all day.” Here, there’s a slightly self-deprecating laugh. “Couldn’t actually focus on much else, really. Jon told me off for daydreaming, which- fair, I suppose.”

“Jon can fuck off.” 

“He really isn’t that-”

Tim interrupts by sliding his middle finger inside. Martin’s words are cut off with an airy “Ah!”, and Tim wastes no time in having his mouth join the fray. He starts near his finger, licking slowly up until he finds Martin’s clit. It’s swollen, a firm member pressing back against his tongue. Tim closes his lips around it and sucks; Martin curses. Tim feels Martin’s hand fall into his hair, tugging gently at the short, dark strands. 

_Missed this, too,_ Tim thinks, feeling giddy as he lavishes Martin with some long overdue attention. Swiftly sneaks in a second finger, then a third, opening Martin up until the man is keening, rocking his hips against the mouth and fingers working him.

Eventually, the fingers in Tim's begin to tug. "Enough," Martin gasps. "Wait, wait, I'm gonna-"

"Isn't that the point though?" Tim asks, even as he pulls away. His chin is messy from his work. At Martin's dark gaze, he feels his cock begin to protest its final constraint. 

Martin sits up just enough to catch Tim's neck, eagerly pulling him down for a kiss. Tim lets himself drape over Martin once more. Martin kisses him deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of his mouth hungrily. He pulls back to lick at Tim's lips, his sticky chin. Sucks hard at Tim's throat until the man is huffing in frustration, hips stuttering with half-aborted thrusts. "Martin…"

"Against the headboard," Martin orders. "I want to ride you."

Surely he's never moved so quickly in his life. After a quick detour to the supply box beneath Martin’s bed, Tim finds himself seated at the top of the bed, settled comfortably between Martin's pillows, with Martin himself climbing into his lap. Tim loves the weight of him, holding him firmly to the bed. He isn't trapped, of course, but it's easy to pretend he is. It's exciting, being at the mercy of Martin Blackwood. 

Once his briefs are off and the condom is on, they kiss as Martin positions himself. Tim expects the usual slow, easy descent; he actually shouts in surprise when Martin takes him in a single, swift movement. And the pace he sets right off- it's quick and steady, punctuated with a roll of his hips when their thighs meet, over and over. Martin's stomach is soft, pressing up against Tim's front. The entirety of him is warm and wanting. Tim takes Martin’s head in both hands and kisses his cheeks, his jaw, anywhere that isn't the mouth making all those beautiful sounds. 

Tim feels fucked out already -- anything beyond the bed might as well not exist. But it's hard to move like this, and while Martin is undoubtedly enjoying himself, Tim knows it isn't what his friend was asking for. 

So he slides his hand beneath Martin's ass, squeezing each handful meaningfully, giving his friend time to recognize that things are about to switch up. Martin stills, fully seated. Rocks his hips once, moaning, already leaning back a bit.

Tim wraps his arms securely around Martin, then flips them. Martin lets out a little, "woah!" at Tim's enthusiasm, then giggles when he's kissed. Then gasps when Tim pulls out. "Tim," he whines.

"You wanna come?" Tim asks, voice rough and deep. He looms over Martin, just close enough so they can feel each other breathing, feel the heat of each other's desire, but barely touch. "Want me to make you come?"

"Mmhmm," is the reply, shaky with arousal and desperation. "Yes, yes, Tim-"

He leans back and grabs his cock, pressing it back in just a bit, just enough so the head disappears amidst those folds. Martin chokes and squirms. He whines when Tim does it again, just barely dipping inside, then rubbing his cock against Martin's clit, spreading his wetness. 

"Tell me what you want." Tim encourages him with a hand on one thigh, pushing Martin's leg back. Opening him up more. "Go on."

"Please, please just fuck me," Martin asks, breathless. He's flat on his back now, trying to be still. When Tim teases him, his hands curl into fists, like he's restraining himself. "Please, Tim-"

Tim pushes all the way inside, grins when Martin's voice dissolves into a mess of half-swears and moaning. Using his now free hand to grab Martin's hip, Tim sets fast pace. "What do you want, Martin?"

"I- I- _ahhh!"_

Tim's thumb travels up Martin's thigh, finds his clit. "C'mon, you can do it."

"Come- I wanna come," Martin gasps, "Please let me come-" 

The thumb dips down, just a bit, settling over a particular spot that makes Martin sputter helplessly. Pressing in time with his thrusts, it takes only seconds for Tim to bring Martin over the edge at last. He makes a beautiful sound as he suddenly locks up, thighs trembling; Tim groans when he feels Martin tighten and spasm around his cock. Tim fucks him through it, relishing the sounds and smells of Martin's orgasm, and it's almost enough to get him off too, but he's not done yet. 

Just as Martin's breathing becomes a bit less erratic, his legs slack in their hold on Tim, eyes closed, the taller man leans over and snatches something from beneath one pillow. He'd stashed it after fetching a condom; it was a familiar toy and a great favorite for them both. Plus, small enough that Martin hadn't noticed him grabbing it. 

Tim brings the vibrator to rest against Martin's clit, but doesn't turn it on yet. Instead he uses his free hand to grab one of Martin's wrists, holding it firmly against the bed. As Martin's lashes flutter open, curious, Tim snaps his hips in and out and doesn't stop.

Martin cries, "Wha- wait!" then, "fuckfuckfuck," and writhes beneath Tim, moaning that it's too much, but he knows his colors and has a free hand if he needs to tap out. He doesn't, even as his eyes begin to water, tears gathering at the corners as he becomes increasingly overwhelmed.

Tim spares a moment to move his hand up Martin's wrist, catching his palm instead, twining their fingers together. Then, with his thumb, he flicks the vibrator on. The sudden buzzing is an aggressive sound and Tim can feel it traveling up his arm as he holds the cool plastic firmly against Martin’s clit. 

_"Fffuck! Ohhh God-"_ Martin's free hand finds Tim's hair and actually pulls hard enough to hurt as he struggles, shuddering, coming undone for a second time. _Gorgeous_ , Tim thinks, then feels himself abruptly reach the edge, hips nearly faltering when he comes. 

He doesn't pull the vibrator away until Martin is properly crying. With a click, Tim tosses it back to the pillow.

They're both out of breath for a moment. Tim finds it hard to keep himself upright, but Martin is clearly worst off, completely boneless, the muscles in his legs twitching now and then.

“In or out,” Tim pants, when when Martin mumbles something that sounds like like _Out, please,_ Tim pulls out and falls onto the bed beside Martin. 

“You feel okay?” he asks. He’s worn out -- he can’t imagine how Martin must be feeling. 

Martin only hums an affirmative, seemingly incapable of real words. Tim chuckles and runs a hand over Martin’s chest, making sure to avoid his nipples. “Bathroom?”

“Nnnn.”

“Shower?”

“Hhff.”

“Well, can’t rightly leave you like that,” Tim says, and makes a show of sounding theatrically exhausted when he pushes himself up and off the bed. 

It only takes a few minutes to clean up. Tim tosses the condom, then takes a moment for himself in the bathroom before putting a rag under warm water and returning to Martin, who’s managed to close his legs a bit and nothing else. Tim makes an apologetic noise when he has to pull them apart again, patting Martin’s knee. “You’re messy! Let me clean you up.” 

Martin grumbles, but leaves him to it. Tim makes sure to be gentle, and once he’s done he pulls the top bedsheet away and tosses it into the laundry basket. Putting on his briefs, Tim heads back out into the kitchen for water bottles. By the time he returns, Martin is asleep. 

.

.

.

Later, Tim is half-dressed and typing something on his laptop when he hears his friend mumble something. “Hmm?” Tim leans over to look at Martin. They’re both on the bed, but Martin is under the comforter while Tim sits cross-legged atop it. “You finally awake, buddy?” 

“Hmf… Think so…” Martin rubs his eyes, letting out an enormous yawn. When he tries to stretch, he jolts and winces. 

“You okay?” Tim asks, a bit alarmed.

Martin waves a hand, blushing. “Fine! Fine, I just, uh, forgot for a sec. I’m feeling it now though.”

“Not aching or anything?”

“M-maybe a bit. Just a little, though -- it’s fine. How long was I out?”

“Two-ish hours? Gotta admit, I’m kind of impressed with myself-”

He’s cut off by his own laugh when Martin hits his shoulder. Martin then plops his arm down atop the blanket, letting out a big sigh. “I gotta go but I don’t wanna move,” he mumbles, eyes half-closed again.

Tim smirks and gently pushes Martin toward the edge of the bed. “Go on then!”

“But it’s _cold_ , Tim.” 

“I’ll get under the covers so they’ll be extra warm when you come back.” 

“Bleh.” Martin sits up. “Blehhh.” He grimaces; Tim assumes it’s because he’s still naked. After fishing a fresh pair of briefs from his drawer, Martin hides in the bathroom for a while. Tim half expects to hear the shower starting up, but it doesn’t. Soon enough, Martin opens the door again and races back to the bed, diving under the covers when Tim holds them up. 

It’s a messy landing, and Tim laughs when Martin ends up half-draped over his stomach. “Hello again.” 

“H’lo. What’re you working on?” 

They spend the rest of their evening like that, mostly, curled up with each other on the bed. Tim works on some articles while Martin reads or dozes off, pressed against Tim’s side. At some point they remember they skipped dinner and reluctantly scavenge around in Martin’s kitchen for something suitable. 

Once it’s late enough, they get ready for bed. After Tim turns out the light and joins him under the covers, Martin says, “Oh, I forgot to thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For earlier. For, y’know.”

“What, makin’ you come so hard you couldn’t feel your legs and fell asleep immediately?”

In the dark, there’s a rustling sound, then a bark of laughter from Tim as he tries to escape Martin’s tickling fingers. “Noooo, no, don’t!”

Martin does stop, but keeps his hands curled around Tim’s stomach. Once he’s sure it’s safe, Tim shuffles closer and pulls Martin in, wrapping his arms around the man. It’s familiar and comfortable and Tim really isn’t sure why it’s taken them this long to hook up again. 

“I missed you,” Tim mumbles, not fully meaning to say it out loud. But, well, he’s never been one to backtrack. And he does mean it. “This was… really nice. So, yeah, you don’t have to thank me or anything.” He chuckles as Martin places a gentle kiss against his collarbone. “Honestly, I should be thanking you for bringing it up in the first place. This was fun.”

“It was,” Martin hums, sounding extremely pleased. “And I haven’t felt this relaxed in ages.”

“Have you really been that stressed?” Tim asks. A thought occurs; he tries to keep his voice even, but it’s a bit difficult when he asks, “Jon’s not still giving you a hard time, right? I thought he-”

“No, no! Jon- Jon’s been fine. I mean-” Martin chuckles helplessly. “You know Jon. But he really has been better lately. We- Um, he. He’s gone to lunch with us, now and then.”

“What, really?” Tim can only remember two or three occasions when he and Sasha managed to drag Jon out of the archives. “Was he kicking and screaming the whole time?”

“N-not really? The first time was hardest, but I think… I think he gets a little lonely, sometimes, y’know? I mean, Jon is really into his job obviously-”

“Obsessed more like.”

“But even he needs a break, and I think once we forced him to take more of them, he realized that he really did need them. So he doesn’t grumble as much anymore.” A brief pause. “Okay, he still grumbles,” Martin says, amusement clear in his voice. And something else, too, something that makes Tim feel a lot less sleepy. “It’s kind of funny actually; I think he just hates being on the edge of the group? You’d think Jon wouldn’t mind hanging back, he always seems fine just listening to Sasha and me go on about whatever, but maybe he’s just got a thing against third-wheeling. I think he prefers to have someone’s full attention, and vice versa, when talking. He’s usually more willing to do lunch if it’s just the two of us-”

“Okay, okay, hold on a sec,” Tim interrupts. “You’re telling me that you, Martin Blackwood, have gotten Jon Sims to leave his office to go to lunch with you, on multiple occasions? With just you?”

They can’t see each other very well in the dark, but Tim can practically feel Martin rolling his eyes. “Yes, Tim, turns out two adults can keep it together long enough to share a lunch break.” 

“But it’s _Jon.”_

“He’s really not that bad,” Martin insists, and there it is again! That tone, the one that’s making Tim antsy. “Jon’s just kind of a workaholic, and honestly I think he has focus issues; not like me, exactly, but kind of similar? We’ve talked about it, a bit. He just gets really in the headspace, y’know? And, well, I know you think he’s kind of a bastard and- you’re not exactly wrong, but he’s apologized for that stuff he’d said before and-”

“Oh!” Tim sits up abruptly, startling Martin. “Oh! I see! You have a crush on him!”

“W-what?”

“That’s what it is,” Tim realizes aloud. “You’re all stressed out _and_ you’ve fallen in love with your boss-”

“F-fall- what!? I’m- I’m not-”

“No wonder you were so frustrated,” Tim says into the dark, feeling extremely amused. “Huh. Wow. Does Sasha know about this? ...Martin?”

Tim finally turns, looking at the Martin-shaped lump beside him. It has turned away. “Hey-”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. I’m very asleep and can’t answer any questions or talk anymore about- about whatever it is you’re going on about. Goodnight.”

“Wait! This is so wild!” Tim leans over Martin, putting a hand on his shoulder and gently shaking him. “Maaaartin! Martin, do you really have a crush on Jon? Oh my god.”

“Zzzzzz.”

“Saying z a lot won’t get you out of this conversation.”

“Being aggressively unconscious will, though.”

Tim smirks. He does want to keep teasing Martin, but has a feeling that the Jon subject will be better suited for breakfast time. So instead he says, smugly, “I can help with that! Would you like me to fuck you really, really good again?”

“I’m never letting you fuck me again,” Martin says, with an almost chilling sincerity.

Tim chuckles. “Aw c’mon Martin, you don’t mean that.” 

Silence.

“...Martin. Martin, you didn't mean that, right? Hey, buddy? You… you can’t possibly be asleep already.” 

There is no response. 

“...Damn.” 

Tim lays down and closes his eyes, and decides he can live with postponing all further investigations into the Jon Situation. He might be busy making breakfast and re-negotiating his privileges in the morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it!! i've been so got-dang hungry for more tim/martin content... i really do love them.


End file.
